


The Long Night

by Wyneb_Ceffyl_Arya



Series: Season 8 [3]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Battle of Winterfell, Gendrya - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2020-04-11 21:13:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19117825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wyneb_Ceffyl_Arya/pseuds/Wyneb_Ceffyl_Arya





	The Long Night

     Arya felt herself drifting off to sleep, she felt safer than she had in years led beside Gendry. She drifted off slowly.. then suddenly she was somewhere else. No, not just somewhere else.. she was someone else. Arya was no longer led beside Gendry on the sacks of grain, she was deep in a forrest. Her senses were heightened, she heard a rustling noise, she snapped her head round. A wolf approached her, he was large and black-grey in colour, he dropped down before her, submitting to her. Arya - no, not Arya.. Nymeria turned around to face a large pack of wolves, they all howled at her. Nymeria roared back at them, turned on her haunches and leapt forwards, the pack followed.

  
“Arya!!” she felt herself returning to her own body as a hand shook her shoulder. “Arya, the horns!” She bolted upright, she was in a store with Gendry, she looked at him. It hadn’t been a dream then. She turned around and began pulling on her clothes. She wanted to kiss him goodbye, but she daren’t. Somehow, kissing him would be signalling defeat, it would be saying goodbye. Instead she looked into his eyes.

  
“I’ll see you when it’s over.” She stated plainly.

     Arya took her place on the castle walls beside Sansa, she was armed with her Valerian-Steel dagger, Needle, a second dagger, a bow and the weapon Gendry had made her. She fingered the yellow ribbon he had attached to the hilt of the spear, finally realising the ribbon was Baratheon yellow. She smiled to herself. Sansa cocked an eyebrow at her sister. Arya composed her face.

  
Arya looked out over the battlements before the walls of Winterfell. She surveyed the lines of Dothraki, Unsullied and Northmen all lined up ready for the charge. She noticed Jon’s Direwolf stood among the Dothraki, next to the Dragon Queen’s loyal Knight, Ser Jorah Morment. Ghost’s head snapped up at an approaching roar from the edge of the near-by forrest. Streaming out of the tree line was a large pack of wolves, led by the she-wolf Nymeria. Arya’s eyes lit up, Nymeria had come home, just like Arya had begged her to last year. And the she-wolf had brought her pack. She began to meander her way through the lines of men and women, some of them jumping clear out of the way to allow the wolves through. Nymeria took her place beside her brother, and her pack gathered around the two of them.

  
Arya glanced up at Sansa who was looking dumbfounded by the latest development.

  
“You don’t look shocked..” she said.

  
Arya sighed.

  
“Sometimes when I’m asleep.. I’m Nymeria. I don’t know how.. but I was her last night, she was gathering her pack, and now she’s here.” Arya gasped.

  
Sansa looked at her, the shock growing on her face.

  
“I know!” Arya exclaimed, “I know, I sound like Bran!”

  
Sansa chuckled and laid a hand on her sisters shoulder.

  
“I’ll believe anything these days.” Sansa responded.

     Arya noted the Dothraki’s Arakh’s light up with flames, and they readied themselves to charge! The hoof beats were thunderous as thousands upon thousands of hooves began to hammer on the frozen winter ground. The wolves roared ferociously whilst running forth with the Dothraki. The horses moved over the horizon, and the lights began to go out, one-by-one at first, then suddenly, there was no light, and little noise bar the wind whistling around the castle. Everyone was looking into the distance, trying to come to terms with what was happening. Trying to glimpse something.

  
Then a lone horse came thundering back towards the castle, the rider was no longer saddled. A few seconds later a few more horses arrived, some had ridders, but most were alone. Nymeria and Ghost came back on the heels of Ser Jorah. They both roared ferociously in warning to the waiting hordes. Most of the other wolves had followed them, they all fell back, waiting for the obviously now approaching Army of the Dead.

  
“The Dead are coming.” Sansa breathed.

  
“The Dead are already here.” Arya responded.

  
A thunderous roar came rolling towards the castle. Arya looked out into the deep dark horizon. It was only when they approached, and became visible against the pure white snow that Arya could see the Dead. The Unsullied braced themselves for the imminent attack, everyone else still alive was now behind them.

  
The noise was monstrous, Arya had witnessed death before, but not on this scale. Everyone was yelling, screaming and tearing into one another. Arya could hear metal clashing against metal, bone against flesh and the agonising squeal of horses going down.

  
Then the two Dragons burst into the sky. Jon was riding the one, Danerys the other. Arya looked up at the Dragons in awe. Then suddenly, Arya was in the midst of the battle. She felt blood flowing from her mouth and down her jaws. She experienced ripping the throats from numerous Whites surrounding her. The feeling was intense, she was surrounded by electricity, movement and noise. She felt her muscles coil tightly in her rear legs as she readied herself to pounce.

  
Sansa’s hand was upon her shoulder. Arya shook her head to clear her wolf-mind.

  
“Get down to the Crypt!” Arya gasped towards her.

  
Sansa look petrified. Arya wasn’t sure if she was more scarred to leave or stay.

  
“I’m not abandoning my people.” Sansa said passionately.

  
“You won’t be,” Arya said, removing a dagger from it’s scabbard. “Take this.” She said handing it over to her older sister.

  
“I don’t know how to use it.”

  
Arya’s eyes flicked up, from the dagger to her sisters scared face.

  
“Stick them with the pointy end.” she informed her, echoing the first lesson Jon had given her when he gave her Needle.

  
Her sister gave her a soft nod and quickly turned on her heels, heading to the crypt.

  
Arya turned to watch the battle unfold below her. Many bodies were now strewn across the ground before her, both the Dead and their dead. She watched as Whites after Whites hurled themselves at the soldiers, she could no longer make out individuals, nor even the wolves, they were all just bodies and blurs. The dragons were also no longer visible, they must have ranged out of view Arya thought to herself.

  
Suddenly there were echoing screams ringing throughout the battlefield.

  
“Fall back! Fall back!” numerous people called out.

  
“Open the gate!” Arya heard Lyanna Morment yell out. Her cousin Ser Jorah had wanted her in the crypts during the battle, but Lyanna was one of the most fearsome Ladies in the Severn Kingdoms. They must have reached a compromise to allow her to be in command of the gates.

  
“Open the gate!” Other voices echoed.

  
People clamoured towards the gates, as the Unsullied fell back.

  
“To your posts!” Someone commanded.

  
Arya could hear the Unsullied commander yelling out orders. Next they suddenly all braced for impact, spears thrust forward, they slowly began to close ranks. There was a small gap still to allow soldiers to fall back through and into the castle grounds.

  
The Dead were very close now, Arya began to pace slightly as she watched the stream of people, she could hear the distant squawk of one of the dragons far up in the sky.

  
“Guard the barricades!”

  
“Close the gaps!”

  
“Come on! Come on!” Voices franticly cried.

  
The Unsullied formed five lines. All with their spears barred towards the Dead. They were all back beyond the trenches that had been dug a few days prior. A few stragglers were still coming through the Unsullied, Arya watched carefully. She saw a large figure zig zagging away from a White close on his back. She lit an arrow and carefully strung it, she slowly inhaled and let loose the arrow. Her eyes followed the flaming arrow as it plunged into the White on the Hounds back. He looked up at her, his face full of fury and thankfulness. She could imagine him cursing her for letting the flame get so close to him.

  
“Protect the gate!” Lyanna Morment’s voice cut through the noise.

  
Arya watched as the Unsullied Commander stepped forwards towards the trench.

  
“Light the trench! Light the trench!” He yelled, pulling a leaver to uncover several rows of pikes sticking up across the trenches.

  
“Light the trenches!” People continued to yell, Ser Davos Seaworth picked up two flaming batons and was waving them in the air. Trying to signal for one of the dragons to come and light the trench.

  
But the air was misty and smoky, it was impossible to see the dragons, and for the dragons to see Ser Davos’ signal. Instead men began advancing to try and light it up. Nothing was happening though.

  
Then Arya saw someone come through the crowds towards the trenches. The woman she could see put as much fear into Arya as the Whites themselves - well, nearly! The woman was tall, dressed in red robes with long flowing hair in a matching colour. She began muttering a spell in High Valeron, and after a minute or two the whole trench burst into flames. Arya decided that she was glad she was there, even with the problems she’d caused her in the past.

  
The Whites reached the trench, they paused before the flames. The Whites were so close now. Arya could feel the electricity buzzing through the air around her. The Whites all paused, they stopped staring into the fiery pits of the trench. Both sides stood, just staring for several moments. Then one White broke off from the line, the White laid it’s body down across the trench, directly into the flames. The living began exchanging looks with each other. Another White followed the first one, and another after that. The trench wasn’t going to hold much longer Arya thought glumly.

  
“Man the walls!” Voices began to cry out.

  
The Whites had created several bridges across the flames by lying themselves down across the trench, then they began pouring over in their hundreds, with thousands more to come.

  
“Man the walls!” Yells continued.

  
Most people were now within the walls of the castle. Arya and other archers were letting loose flaming arrows as the Whites were still far enough off, but they were beginning to close in.

  
“Relieve the archers!” A cry came through as the Whites began scaling the castle walls.

  
Arya and the others began to back off as fighters pushed their way through. She could see Gendry bouncing on the balls of his feet, axe ready to swing. He looked so strong, yet fragile in the face of the coming storm. She reluctantly took her eyes from him and retreated, knowing if she didn’t leave now she would find herself stuck watching him.

  
She could hear the cries and the blows of weapons as the Whites began to come atop the walls of Winterfell. Whites began descending into the court yard where Arya now was. Surely the living stood no chance now she thought to herself?

  
The Dead were all around her, the snarling and grunting of the Whites were ripping through her ears. She spun her spear around herself, impaling any White who dared to come close enough to her. Arya had killed many men before, but the sheer number of creatures falling before her was something else! She continued to thrust her spear into the Dead around her, grunting with the effort of each block and thrust. Her stealth and speed was serving her well. She pulled her weapon apart, into two seperate mini-spears, this allowed her to move through the castle walls more freely. Something was pulling her away from the Court yard.

  
“Clegane!” She heard Beric call out from nearby.

  
She’d slotted her weapon back into one now that she was back into an open area. She swung around hitting three Whites down, the fourth she only managed to block. She pushed it away with a single kick, and stabbed it straight through the eye.

  
She turned around at this moment, feeling someone's eyes on her. A few feet behind her was Ser Davos, the Onion Knight. Ser Davos was much older than her father would have been, he was a kind man from the Streets of Fleabottom, just like Gendry. Arya acknowledged the man with a slight nod of the head, and charged forward to battle the next Dead man.

  
Arya could hear a loud crash as though the main gate had been smashed in, followed by a loud piercing scream. The scream sounded like it had come from a young girl, which really only left two choices, Lyanna Morment or Alys Karstark. Arya didn’t have time to worry too much, she was beginning to become surrounded, but she hopped whoever it was had got away. Arya turned, she was atop a staircase. Both sides were completely over run with Whites. Arya took a deep breath and made a choice. She threw herself on top of the Whites who were clogging up the stairway. She rolled down them and landed with a thump on the floor. She grunted in pain, but didn’t have time to reflect on whether anything was broke. She pushed herself straight back to her feet, already she was face to face with another White. She tried to attack it, but it somehow managed to shove her from behind, she went flying into the corner of a wall. She landed on her backside. Dazed, she looked up to see a thrall of Whites hungrily approaching her. She gasped and quickly pushed herself to her feet.

  
“Fuck off!” She heard the Hounds voice cut through her blurred mind, “We can’t beat them!”

  
At this Arya began fighting aggressively again, if he thought we couldn’t beat them, she’d prove him wrong. But at that moment Arya saw that she was trapped, both entrances to the area she was in were blocked by many Whites. She noticed a large window to her side, she knew this castle better than anyone else, and she knew that bellow that window was a slanted roof, she knew if she threw herself from that window she could roll off the roof and face a drop of only a few feet. It was her only option, the Whites were closing in on her.

  
“ARGH!” She grunted as she leaped out of the window. She rolled down the roof, followed by two whites, but she used her spear to stop her roll, she hung onto the roof edge as the Whites rolled past her.

  
“Tell her that.” Arya heard Beric say.

  
Arya began to scramble, she found a route off the roof without having to face the drop.

  
She heard the girls scream again, but it was different this time, the first one had been full of fear, this scream sounded like a battle cry.

  
Arya continued battling her way through Dead man after Dead man, she could see Lady Brienne fighting alongside Ser Jamie and her squire Podrick, she could see the bodies of people she had broken bread with just yesterday scattered over the grounds. She didn’t want to look at the fallen too closely, just in case.

  
She found herself slipping her way into the castle. She didn’t know where she was going, but something was pulling her inside. She crept into a hallway, she could still hear the ringing of swords, but it was far quieter in here. She inched her way slowly down the hallway, and spotted several dead bodies on the floor. She could feel blood dripping on her forehead, she swiped at it with the sleeve of her tunic, and crept around a corner. The next door she came to, she opened up slowly and carefully, peering inside to make sure there were no Whites waiting for her. She’d made her way into the Library. She pushed herself against a shelf, panting quietly. She closed her eyes, trying to clear her blurring vision. When she closed her eyes, she felt herself slipping back into her wolf, but she shook her head.

  
No. No. She told herself. Clear your mind, focus. You are Arya Stark of WInterfell. She composed herself enough to feel like she could move. She could hear that she wasn’t in the room alone. She crept silently along the book cases. Peering through to check on the Whites, careful not to be seen. She was trying to make her way to another door, it was on the far side of the Library, she was halfway there. She turned around and nearly found herself face-to-face with a haggard old White. But she just managed to spin herself away from him. She crept along a shelf, but her attention was focussed on the direction of the White she’d narrowly missed. She ran across an open area, quickly passing the back of another White. She squeezed herself under a small desk. She needed to try and compose herself, her vision was going patchy again. She crouched under the table and took a few quiet breaths. But then she noticed a soft pattering sound, it sounded like the first raindrops before a great storm. She peered down, the noise was her blood! She heard a White shift, she knew it had heard it to. Swiftly before it had the chance to bend down she dragged herself out from under the table, and around a book case.

  
She was close to the doorway now. She paused with her back to the book case, she looked around the side of it, there was a group of Whites milling around the top of that aisle. She could sneak past one of them, but not 4 or 5 of them at once. Think, think, she told herself. Swiftly she reached for a book off a nearby table and threw it in the opposite direction to where she was going. She immediately began to move as she heard the group of Whites snarl and throw themselves towards the book. She snuck her way around the final book case, only to come face-to-face with a female White. Before the White had time to react, Arya had shoved the blade of her spear through the top of her throat. She allowed the White to collapse into her so she could lower her to the ground as quietly as possible.

  
Arya had made her way to the door at last. Once she was through it, she positioned her back to it. She slowly backed the door closed, trying to make no noise. She scanned the hallway she now found herself in. She could feel sweat on her brow and the blood dripping from her forehead. She could hear the Whites in the background. She forced herself to take a few shaky breaths. As she began to move, something came bursting through the next door down the hall. The noise then alerted the Whites who had been in the library. Arya began to run. She twisted around several corners, there were no White’s in front of her, but she knew there were at least 30 of them now chasing her. She kept running, corner after corner, still going forward was fine. She found another door to creep through, she still didn’t know where she was going, or why it was this door she chose despite having passed 8 others. She was in a small ante-chamber when a load of Whites came bursting through. The area was too tight for her to fight effectively. They quickly overwhelmed her. She ended up going towards a door, so she prepared herself to feel for the handle. When her body was slammed into the door with a sickening bang, she’d found the handle and pushed down on it, so herself and the White when through the doorway. She was screaming now, swiping at the White who was snarling inches from her face. This was it, this was where she was going to die.

     Then suddenly there was a flash of light. Arya felt the body that had been pinning her down roll off of her, it was now impaled with a burning sword. There was only one man she knew with a burning sword! She looked up to see Beric Dondarrion, she didn’t move, Beric reached down for her and yanked her to her feet just in time as a large group of Whites pounced where she’d been led a second previous.

  
“Come on! Go!” He grunted at her, pushing her back the way he had come.

  
As they turned the corner the Hound was there. He grabbed her and continued yanking her forward.

  
“Come on!” He yelled, pulling her along. “Run!!”

  
She kept looking back, towards Beric, the Whites were catching him, he was falling behind. The three of them kept moving though. Then suddenly Beric and the Hound found themselves pinned in by two small groups of Whites. One of them plunged a knife into Beric’s gut. The Hound was behind her now, she saw an axe on the floor, she picked it up and plunged it into the back of the head of the White who’d stabbed Beric. The Hound overcame his attackers, and Arya was working on Beric’s attackers. But suddenly the Hound grabbed her around the waist and started dragging her away from him.

  
“We’ve gotta go!” He yelled at her.

  
She was screaming and looking back towards Beric. He was being overwhelmed by two Whites, but now more were making their way between them.

  
The Hound pulled Arya through a doorway. And somehow Beric had made his way passed the Whites too. Arya and the Hound yanked him through the door together. Beric collapsed straight to the floor as he came through the doorway. Arya turned to survey the room, to make sure they were alone. They were in the Great Hall she noted. It hadn’t escaped fighting, a chandelier was crashed to the floor, and bodies were scattered over the floor. The Hound barricaded the door as Arya made her way to Beric, panting in a panic.

  
She propped him up against a wall, and looked at him. He was dying.

  
He began incohesively muttering things.

  
“Your father-“ he managed to croak.

  
Then he sighed his last breath.

  
“The Lord brought him back for a purpose.” a voice sounded behind Arya.

  
She gasped as she turned around, coming face-to-face with the Red Woman.

  
“Now that purpose has been served.” She declared.

  
Arya looked at her in confusion. She hated this woman, and didn’t trust her, what was she talking about! Arya glanced at the Hound, he looked very uncomfortable, but some kind of understanding clouded his eyes.

  
“I know you.” Arya responded to the woman.

  
The woman began to make her way towards Arya, and Arya stood.

  
“And I know you.” She replied softly.

  
“You said we’d meet again.”

  
“And here we are. At the end of the World.”

  
“You said I’d shut many eyes forever.” Arya said remembering their previous encounter. Arya now understood what the pull she’d been feeling all night was. “You were right about that, too.” She continued.

  
“Brown eyes, green eyes…” It suddenly hit Arya. She nodded as the Red Woman spoke.

  
“..and blue eyes.” She finished.

  
Arya scanned her face, realisation of what was happening was dawning on her. The doors to the Great Hall started creaking and banging, the Hound had barricaded the doors, but Arya doubted they would hold too long.

  
Arya stood between the Hound and the Red Woman, the three of them faced the creaking door.

  
“What do we say to the God of Death?” The Red Woman asked softly from over her shoulder.

  
“Not today.” Arya answered confidently.

  
Arya turned to face the Red Woman, she was looking knowingly into Arya’s face.

  
Arya suddenly turned, hopping over debris on the floor, making her way out of the Hall, and she could feel the Hound and the Red Woman watching her as she began to run.

     Arya made her way through the castle, heading towards the Godswood. That’s where Bran was luring the Night King. Arya crept towards the Godswood, swift as a deer and as quiet as a shadow. She could hear the dragons up in the sky, and she could hear the battle still raging, but Arya knew what she had to do now. She realised what had been pulling her all night.

  
As she made her way to the Godswood, there were no Ironborn left standing, even Theon was dead on the ground. The place was more or less surrounded by Whites. Arya crept past them all, before her was the Weirwood tree, the Three Eyed Raven and the Night King. The Night King was now stood directly in front of Bran.

  
It’s now or never she told herself.

  
Arya felt the muscles coil in her legs, just as she had earlier when she was Neymeria. She pushed hard against the ground, she only had one chance at this. She leaped into the air coming down behind the Night King, Brans eyes were focussed on the King, but his face showed that he knew what was happening. The Night King reached up over his right shoulder, he was reaching for his weapon sheafed across his back.

  
Then Arya yelled, her dagger was in her left hand. The Night King turned before she had the chance to plunge it into him, he gripped her around the neck, her face contorted in pain. But that was just fine, her plan could still work. She allowed the dagger to fall from her left hand, the Night King’s eyes followed the dagger but a second too late. The dagger dropped down into her waiting right hand. She plunged the Valeryian Steel dagger right into the chest of the Night King. His chest froze first, then shattered like ice, this spread up and down his body. Suddenly he was in a million pieces and Arya was falling to the ground.

  
She braced herself on the ground gasping in shock.

  
She peered up to see the Kings generals shatter, then his army.

  
She had done it. She had saved Bran. She had saved Winterfell. Maybe she had just saved the World?


End file.
